Archive for urban primadonna
January 23, 2008 at 12:16 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, urban primadonna
Good morning, Helga, today is going to be an aaaawessssome! day! You woke up at 5am— three and a half hours before your class— giving you enough time to laze about and squeeze in some quality time with your Sims 2 families before having to embark on the wonderful one hour trip to school. You BOUNCE! out of bed, SKIP! to the kitchen, make your coffee with a HUGE SMILE! on your face (my my, someone’s perky this morning), and PLOP! DOWN! HAPPILY! in front of your laptop.
At 630am, you exit Sims 2, put on some Handsome Boy Modeling School, and dance around your living room as you CHEERFULLY! and EXCITEDLY! prepare yourself for work school. Jeans? Check. Top? Check. Flipflops? Check. Panties? Check. Bra? Why, check! Make-up? Check! All the nifty and useless things that go into your bag? Check!
Now say it like Spongebob: I’m ready! I’m ready! I’m ready!
You’re out your front door a little past 7am and after a trike ride, some walking, a quick LRT2 ride from Katipunan Station (the first and only underground air-conditioned station! Katipunan Kidz Reprazent!) to Cubao Station, and some more walking, you finally arrive at the Cubao MRT Station. Aaaahhhh. Smell that, Helga? That is not the smell of last Christmas’s dinner. That, my dear, is the vomit-inducing, appetite-killing, stomach-churning stenches of hell. Sometimes also known as the masses, but not when it’s this early morning and everyone looks like they just stepped out of the shower, what with their wet heads and the scent of Safeguard white on their skin.
Surprisingly, there are no lines this morning. What happy happy joy joy! You make your way up to the escalator leading to the platform and that’s when you see your first glimpse of the fiery pits of hell: A Massive Crowd.
Never the mind. The glowing red numbers on the station’s digital clock reads 720am. All’s good. It takes less than 15 minutes to get from Cubao to Buendia Station and it’s only a quick walk to your building from there. You SORTA-EAGERLY! join the crowd and wait patiently for the train.
Train comes. You get pushed to the left, the right, get pulled back a bit, and then pushed forward a bit— but never pushed forward enough to get your body inside the train.
Second train comes. You get pushed to the left, the right, get pulled back a bit, and then pushed forward a bit— but never pushed forward enough to get your body inside the train. This is all happening as you stand there, motionless. The crowd. It moves you! In an unpleasant and physical way.
Third train comes. No one gets out. No one gets in.
Fourth train comes.
Fifth train.
Sixth train. Someone’s breath stinks.
Seventh train. Can someone please, for the love of all things good and holy and cute, stop stepping on your toes?
Ninth train.
Tenth train. Lol. Someone’s fucking with you. You been waiting for 20 minutes now.
Eleventh train. You get pushed. Left. Right. Left. Right. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Oh no you di-i-n’t. Up. Up. Down. Down. Left. Right. Left. Right. A. B. Select. Start!
I’M SUPAAAAHH-CHARGED AND I GOTS 30 LIVES, IMMA KILL YOU ALL!!!!!!!! LET! ME! IN! THE! MOTHER! FUCKING! TRAIN!
And to that fagface who kept on cursing and yelling “PARANG MGA DI BABAE!” (Trans: Oooh, you guys are so rough! Like men! Que horrorz!) while the crowd so nicely pushed her inside the train: you stupid.
January 9, 2008 at 11:15 pm | Filed under bitchin' a ride, urban primadonna
When it comes to hailing a cab in the metro between the hours of three and eight in the evening, only one rule applies: it’s every man for himself. For someone who doesn’t know how to drive (you laugh, but wait ’til I kill myself because I had one too many rumcolas and ended up ramming my car into a wall) and for someone who doesn’t own a car, the term ‘Rush Hour’ basically translates to “I, Helga Gabrielle Weber, am fucked; I might as well grab myself a 1-piece chicken with rice meal, a Tomato-Lettuce-Cheeseburger, and a large fries from Jollibee and head back to the condo to play more Sims 2 (which is actually the reason as to why I ended up not leaving home early enough to avoid rush hour) because there is no waaay in hell am I going to get out of Katipunan; not right now, not in the next hour, not until 9PM”.
That was the case the other day. Tonight, I did not have the liberty of flipping the evening Katipunan crowd the finger so I prepared myself for the worst, left my laptop at home, and traveled lightly (ooh, so dramatic for a twenty minute cab ride to Pasig).
I waited seven minutes for a cab outside my building (I know it was seven minutes because that’s how long it takes for me to smoke a cigarette) and nothing. I flagged down a tricycle, got off at McDonald’s, and walked down Katipunan Avenue because lawd knows I’d have better luck getting a cab there. I checked the time on my phone: a little past seven. I figured that most students must have gotten home by now and I’d have an easier time getting a cab. WRONG.
Now like I said: it’s every man (or woman) for himself (or herself) this time of the day. No acts of gentlemanliness or kindness occur when it comes to getting your ass in a cab; and really, no one expects any sort of chivalry during desperate times. What I do expect, though, is some fucking decency; some evidence that these rich college kids aren’t a bunch of assholes and fuckheads.
Or maybe I’m too mannered when it comes to certain things. Am I the only one who thinks that there’s such a thing as, uh, cab hailing etiquette? And if there isn’t, well, there should be. Nevermind that you’re dealing with strangers and people you’ll never encounter again (thus, giving you the excuse not to be nice pffft)— it’s not right to steal someone else’s cab.
So I have here a super short list called The One Thing You Should Never To Do To Your Fellow Stranded-In-The-Metro-During-Rush-Hour-Waiting-For-A-Cab Men When You’re Stranded In The Metro During Rush Hour Waiting For A Cab:
1) DO NOT HOUND SOMEONE WHO’S WAITING FOR A CAB, IN HOPES OF BEATING THEM TO THE FIRST CAB THAT SLOWS IN FRONT OF THEM. There is nothing more annoying than this, I swear. On the same note: when waiting for a cab, keep a distance of at least ten meters between you and the person in front of you. Do not give them the impression that you are itching to pounce on the next cab that merrily rolls your way— a cab that’s rightfully theirs.
I remember this time when I was running late for work and it was 5pm on a weekday on Katipunan Avenue. I was standing outside Red Ribbon, desperate for a cab when two Korean girls sneakily made their way behind me. I looked at them, shrugged them off for being weird and Korean-y, and started walking towards 7-11 (better chance of getting a cab from someone getting off at the condo building). They were tailing me, planning to steal my cab! The non-English speaking Korean nerve!!!
So I killed them.
July 28, 2007 at 6:10 am | Filed under urban primadonna
Being a 22-year old career girl wannabe who works and lives in two differents cities, I am constantly on the go. Also, I need at least eight hours of sleep to function properly. Furthermore, let’s all pretend that I don’t waste my time playing Free Cell or pointing my camera at random objects like toilet bowls and pan handles. Lastly, please ignore the fact that a huge chunk of my day (roughly about 60%) is spent blogging or thinking of what to blog about next.
A picture of Helga on the go:
A picture of Helga as a career girl wannabe/on the job/being a corporate travel specialist:
Seeing that my hands are regularly full with so many important things, I never have the time to sit down and enjoy a good meal (usually consisting of a Hydroxycut caplet, two diet pills, and a mug of warm coffee). This has terrible repercussions on my quest to be the poster girl for (failed) eating disorders. I mean, how am I going to throw up my food if I don’t eat, right? And because I’m not one to let my goals be trumped by such trivial matters (time constraints, work, sleep, etc etc), it’s only natural that I eat while I’m on the go— which is something that I’ve always thought of as not unusual. I can’t be the only over-sleeping, dilly-dallying, meandering career girl wannabe out there?!
Until I noticed the not-so-surreptitious stares that people were giving me, one eye-opening early Wednesday morning. I was racing home, hoping to walk through our front door by 630 (so I could finish working out by 8 and sleep at 9?), when I realized that I hadn’t eaten since the afternoon before. I made a detour to the nearest McDonald’s, ordered a you-will-be-flushed-down-the-toilet-in-about-an-hour meal, and continued my merry way home.
Hello, curious looks from random city people. What’s so weird about a 22-year old girl showing off exceptional coordination? I know that it’s not everyday you see a person walking through the hustle and bustle that is Quezon City on a weekday morning and successfully juggling a handbag, an mp3 player, a bottle of apple C2, and a styro-plate while shoving a bite of McDonald’s pancakes into her mouth…BUT MUST YOU BE RUDE AND STARE??? Get your own breakfasts, damn it.
July 4, 2007 at 2:16 am | Filed under technicolor lover, urban primadonna
It’s easy to lose yourself in a city of 11 million people and I find it a pleasant surprise when I recognize a stranger in the crowd. Now I’m not one to romanticize something as casual and insignificant as realizing the girl going down the subway (lol) stairs in front of me happens to be the same girl who stood right next to me on the platform some days ago. I knew it was her without having to look at her face because she was holding a battered copy of Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club on both occasions. …Why do I feel like I’m the only one who ever notices these things?
It really cheers me up when I come across people who carry books with them while making their way through the city. The other day, I was on the train en route to work and the girl next to me was so absorbed in the book she was reading that I couldn’t resist being nosy. I leaned in a bit to get a look, haughtily expecting her to be reading some Mitch Albom or Mary Jo Putney kind of hogwash. So I was a bit impressed when I caught a glimpse of the cover: Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain. You don’t expect that from your garden variety Filipino.
Anyways. I realize that I’ve come to enjoy taking the train to work because there’s something addicting about shamelessly watching people, and rush hour provides just the perfect setting for gawking. After more than a month of silently observing my fellow countrywomen, I have come to the conclusion that the general Filipina public is an…interesting bunch. It’s a curious thing, the way some of them smile sheepishly at no one in particular because someone beat them to a spot on the train bench. Or the way this one woman took out her handkerchief and ever-so-casually wiped at her sweaty armpits, as if it were the most natural thing to do in a train full of people. Or how some girls can lay out all their make-up on their laps and (for the lack of a better term) preen themselves in public. What Odds.
I’m suffering from reading ADD again. Last week, I was reading Peter S Beagle’s The Last Unicorn. Over the weekend, I started Neil Gaiman’s Don’t Panic: Douglas Adams & The Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Yesterday morning, I came home to find the best friend’s copy of Candace Bushnell’s Lipstick Jungle on the bedroom floor. And I’m still not done with Marvin Harris’s Cows, Pigs, Wars, and Witches: The Riddles of Culture, and Wally Lamb’s I Know This Much Is True (which I started reading MONTHS ago and sort of forgot about when we moved into the condo).
And I’m behind my crossword puzzles.
Today’s “This Gave Me The Happies!” conversation is with Mr Supervisor:
Helga: Why are you here? Aren’t you off today?
Mr Supervisor: I don’t know, because I’m stalking you? HAHAHAHAHA!
(Seriously, though, he came from Bible study.)
March 16, 2007 at 2:03 am | Filed under a waste of human capital, ditz drivel, urban primadonna
Just to say: because pay day is two weeks away, I have temporarily moved back in with my folks. There are pros (I have access to the intarwebs, even though its dial-up!!1) and cons (we never run out of food). So for the past few days, I’ve been taking public transportation back and forth Antipolo and Makati, and I realize: it fucking sucks. Like, no word or phrase or sentence can convey just how much I hate passing through C-5/Pasig at two to two-thirty in the afternoon. I’ve already been late three times this week.
Anyway. I usually take the bus from the office until Galleria, and then take a cab home from there. Tonight, I took the bus all the way to Valley Golf since our trainor let us out an hour early (for the sheer lack of anything to do to review for our US geography exam later). And two things happened:
1) The guy sitting next to me slipped me his calling card before getting off the bus. Well, not really slipped slipped. More like he put his card on top of the crossword puzzle I was answering (Rosario, Pasig and its All-Day All-Night Traffic Specials). Lulz, and his name is Jojo.
2) I ran out of phone credits just as I was about to text my mom that I was near our village (so my brother could pick me up at the gate). No working pay phone, no store where I could buy credits for my mobile. For ten seconds or so, I seriously thought I was fucked and would have to walk the five miles (or maybe even more omgz) home. Until I saw the guard house.
Life is so exciting.
I’m glad that alcohol the weekend still makes me giddy. And I’m gonna be a normal person next week in the 7am to 3pm shift.
And yes, Klassy, I remember:
Oh, Miriam College days.
Hi, my name's Helga Weber and welcome to my personal site. I'm 23. My first socio-political scandal will happen at the age of 35 and will include men, sushi, an African country, and lots of money. My lover is the greatest. 
